Cheditafa had gone. The moment of Mok's appearance, he had risen and
fled. There were now people in the street. Some had come out of their
houses, hearing the noise of the struggle, for Banker wore heavy shoes.
There were also one or two pedestrians who had stopped, unwilling to pass
men who were engaged in such a desperate conflict.
No one interfered. It would have seemed as prudent to step between two
tigers. Such a bounding, whirling, tumbling, rolling, falling, and rising
contest had never been seen in that street, except between cats. It
seemed that the creatures would dash themselves through the windows of
the houses.
It was not long before Cheditafa came back with two policemen, all
running, and then the men who lay in the street, spinning about as if
moving on pivots, were seized and pulled apart. At first the officers
of the law appeared at a loss to know what had happened, and who had
been attacked. What was this black creature from the Jardin des
Plantes? But Banker's coat had been torn from his back, and his pistol
stood out in bold relief in his belt, and Cheditafa pointed to the
breathless bandit, and screamed: "Bad man! Bad man! Try to kill me!
This good Mok save my life!"
Two more policemen now came hurrying up, for other people had given the
alarm, and it was not considered necessary to debate the question as to
who was the aggressor in this desperate affair.
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